Sins of the father
by csi101
Summary: Nick is being hunted by a ruthless killer after Judge Stokes sentences the killers son to the death penalty in Texas.  Occassional violent themes and mildly offensive language.
1. Chapter 1

**New story up! Please be aware that there are violent themes in this one so if you are a little sensitive to this sort of stuff, maybe reconsider reading. This is based in the 3rd**** season. I have no doubt that there will be some liberties taken with believability at times. My apologies in advance for the 'far fetchedness' which this story may contain. **

**CHAPTER 1**

BLOOMINGTON, ILLINOIS

It was the picture of perfect domestic bliss.

Julia Gable sat up on the bed of her eldest child, who was cuddled in beside her teetering between awake and asleep as her mother read to her. The story had been Julia's favourite when she was her daughters age - 'Harry the Dirty Dog'. It brought back memories of a happy childhood. Julia had been born into a large family and, for as long as she could remember, her books were a respite from the noise and bustle of the family home. But she had adored growing up with a lot of siblings. There were occasional fights but there was also the close bond known only to siblings - a bond that had survived childhood and had grown and flourished as each child had matured and left the family nest to pursue their respective lives. And that's what she hoped for her own children. A blissful childhood and the joy of always having each other to rely on through life's challenges. She had been voicing these very dreams to her younger brother on the phone before bed time duties began.

She finished the story and looked down at her now sleeping daughter. Smiling with contentment she slowly got up and resettled her little girl with a kiss while tucking the covers in tightly around her little body. She took one last long look at her before smiling again and switching off the bedroom light.

The door to the next bedroom was only partially opened with a weak greenish light filtering out into the corridor. Opening the door a little more, Julia leant in and checked on her sleeping twin boys. The toddlers were both tucked into their 'big boy' beds, sleeping soundly with the comforting glow of their nightlights keeping away the imagined monsters which lived in the dark.

One final room to check and she could spend the rest of the evening spending some quality grown up time with her husband. Wine, a pizza and a movie would be the perfect cap for a perfect day.

Walking into the bedroom, she smiled as two sleepy eyes looked back at her. The baby girl kicked her legs and gurgled happily at the sight of her mother.

"Shhhh, baby girl." Julia whispered, gently picking her up from the crib and carrying her to the change table. "A new diaper and it's back to sleep for you."

After quickly changing her diaper, Julia cradled her baby gently, soothing her back towards sleep. When her little eyes finally closed, she placed her back into her cot and covered her over with the handmade blankets her mother had made for her.

A deep thud from downstairs caught her attention and she smiled. Her husband was notoriously clumsy. He had enormous feet which even tripped himself up. They were feet that often got in the way, but did have the benefit of making him an excellent swimmer. They were feet that his twin boys seemed to have inherited.

"Goodnight, Sasha." she whispered to her sleeping daughter. "Remember, Mommy loves you."

Padding quietly down the stairs to the living room, she smiled at the bottle of red wine sitting on the living room table, illuminated with the glow from the large television mounted on the wall. And then she saw the red stain running freely on her light gold carpet.

"Jesus, Paul!" she cursed under her breath. Red wine on a carpet - that was never going to come out. But something didn't seem right. Time seemed to slow down as realisation suddenly merged with assumption. Not red wine. Blood.

Her breathing increased in the millisecond it took for everything to kick into place and she drew in a breath to scream.

But the scream never made it out.

Instead she felt cold hands on either side of her head and was dead before she could register the loud crack as her neck was snapped.

She fell lifelessly to the floor as the lights of a car pulling into the driveway of her house shone through the window.

The bright pink elephant of the pizza delivery van cast an eerie glow across the room.

But there was no-one left to notice.

LAS VEGAS, NEVADA

Fifteen hundred miles away, it had been a quiet night for the Grave Shift at Las Vegas crime lab - a rarity in the city.

Nick Stokes was using the opportunity to catch up on paperwork. He had spent the earlier part of the shift attending a routine break and enter at a high end jewellery store. The manager had provided him with video footage showing clearly the perpetrator smashing a window, grabbing a handful of gold bracelets from the window display - cutting his hand in the process on the jagged broken glass - and legging it two blocks down the road where he was apprehended when a bystander had intervened. Open and shut case. The jewellery had been returned to the store manager, the man had been arrested and the truth had come out. He had lost everything over the course of a 4 day gambling bender. The more he lost, the more he tried to bet to increase his winnings - the winnings that, unfortunately for him, never arrived. It never ceased to amaze Nick the sheer number of people who ended up in the same position in this city.

Fortunately, most didn't resort to ludicrous attempts to get rich quick.

"Nicky."

Nick looked up from the file he was working on to see Catherine Willows standing in the doorway of the break room.

"Grissom is looking for you. He wants to see us both in his office."

Nick frowned. A summons like that usually meant he was going to get a Grissom 'talking to'. He sighed at Catherine as he closed the file and pushed himself to his feet. At least whatever he had done this time hadn't been a single handed effort - clearly Catherine had been involved too.

Nick admired Gil Grissom very much and fought hard to get his respect, but sometimes he felt nothing he every did would satisfy the critical eye of his boss. He had been a CSI Level 3 for almost 8 months and still his work was scrutinized by his mentor.

Catherine watched his reluctance with good humour and winked at him cheekily when he made eye contact with him.

"Come on, Nicky. He probably just wants to know something about the Jackson case."

They walked together down the corridor and knocked on Grissom's closed office door. Nick gave a small frown as he was summoned in. Grissom rarely closed the door to his office.

Grissom looked serious as he sat behind his desk. Jim Brass was there too, standing to the side of the desk looking just as grim.

"Nick, come in and sit down. We need to talk."

Nick glanced at Catherine, but she was looking as confused as he felt.

Nick walked further into the office but shook his head when Jim gestured to one of the two empty chairs.

He turned back to meet Grissom's eyes.

"Gris, what's going on?" he asked, a stab of anxiety and fear hitting him with the look of regret that was mirrored back at him.

Grissom removed his glasses and pinched his fingers into his eye socket briefly before standing up and moving to lean back against the front of his desk.

"Catherine, can you please shut the door. Nick…..sit down…..please. We have…..bad news."

A look of deep concern passed over Catherine's face as she quickly shut the door before moving to place a gentle hand against Nick's back, urging him towards the vacant chair. He didn't resist - his mind and body didn't feel connected all of a sudden. There was a roaring in his head and he could suddenly hear his heart beat whooshing in his ears. He felt physically ill as he waited for news he knew he didn't want to hear. To be put through this it was clear that someone in his family had been hurt…or worse.

Jim Brass moved in closer and knelt with creaking knees in front of Nick so that he was at eyelevel.

"We've just been contacted by PD in Bloomington." he said quietly.

All the colour left Nick's face.

"Julia?" he whispered hoarsely.

Jim nodded and dropped his gaze momentarily.

"She was murdered in her home earlier this evening." he said quietly. "I'm so sorry, Nick."

It felt as if someone had just kicked him in the chest. All the breath was suddenly knocked out of his body and he felt a sudden wash of nausea. It was if he was in a terrible nightmare but wasn't waking up. His skin felt oddly clammy all of a sudden. Almost subconsciously he heard Catherine gasp with shock at the news and heard her move behind him, feeling her hands come to rest on his shoulders in sympathy. But he did not respond.

"No, no, no. I was just talking to her. She rang just before I came in to work." he mumbled, dropping his head down to stare at the floor.

"I'm sorry, kid." murmured Jim

Nick's head snapped up suddenly.

"The kids!" he said suddenly, adding in a voice slightly more than a whisper, "What about Paul and the kids?"

Jim brought his hands up to rest on Nick's arms.

"Her husband's body was found nearby." he said "The children are all safe. They've been moved to protective custody."

Nick's body had started shaking with the shocking news but he managed to push himself up from the chair. Jim staggered back on his heels before catching his balance and pushing himself back up on his feet with effort.

"I need to go." said Nick simply. "I need to get to Illinois. I need to go."

"Hang on, kiddo." said Brass reaching a hand to grab Nick's wrist as he turned to head for the door.

"I've got to get to them!" Nick cried as he pulled his wrist free. "I have to get to the kids! I need to be there for Jules." He was almost frantic with his need to get out.

"Nick."

It was the quiet but commanding voice of Grissom.

"I'm sorry, Nick. But you can't go"

Nick stopped in his tracks and slowly turned to meet his eyes. The tired intensity of his boss' gaze was too much for Nick and the tears which had been gathered in a lump in his throat finally broke through.

"Grissom, this is my family! I've got to be there!""Nick, sit down…please. There's more."

It was like a slap to the face. He stood staring dumbly at his boss.

_More? How much worse could it possibly be?_

"It doesn't seem to be random, Nick." continued Grissom solemnly, "Local investigators believe it was deliberate attack."

Nick swiped angrily at the tears coursing down his face.

"Who would want to hurt Jules and Paul?" he choked out. "Paul's an accountant and Jules is a stay at home Mom for Christ's sake! They're good people. They get on with everyone."

Grissom glanced briefly at Catherine before turning his attention back to Nick.

"We believe whoever did this was targeting your sister." he said gently. "We believe it's in retribution for a judgement your father handed down in a drug trafficking case. He handed down the death penalty to Carlos Escoband who was convicted of first degree murder after a triple homicide when he murdered the family of a drug courier. Your father received an anonymous call to his home this evening informing him of your sister's death. The caller told your father that his punishment was not over. We suspect there is a plan to target the rest of your family. Escoband's father has a long record on drug related crimes and we suspect he is responsible for your sister's death. We believe he is taking revenge on your father by targeting his children."Nick stumbled to the chair and collapsed down in it heavily, dropping his head into his hands.

"Mom…Dad….are they safe?" he murmured.

"They're in protective custody as well." said Jim quietly. "Your brother and three of your sisters and their families are being evacuated to safe houses. The foreign affairs department is also trying to locate your sister travelling through Spain."

Nick nodded dumbly and was silent for several long moments. Catherine noted his shoulders starting to shake as the tears of grief and shock broke through for a second time. She looked at Grissom - in shock herself - before moving to kneel in front of Nick and bringing her arms around his shoulders, pulling him into a comforting hug. He buried his head against her shoulder and cried for his sister and brother in law. Catherine brought a hand up to rest against the back of his head and murmured word of comfort to him.

Grissom moved to the back of the office to give them some privacy. Jim followed close by.

"We have to move him, Gil. I'll organise a safe house and a couple of armed officers. We need to get him out of here before whoever did this to his family works out how to find him."Grissom shrugged, strain evident on his face.

"What makes you think they don't already know?"

Jim looked Grissom straight in the eyes.

"Because he's still alive."

**As always, please consider taking a moment or two and just hitting that review button. Please.**


	2. Chapter 2

**Just for donttouch (who may have just set a record for fast reviewing!) - another chapter up! I am sure that not everything contained in the story hereon in could actually happen - I have let my imagination go a bit mad, so please keep in mind that this is a complete work of fiction : D **

**CHAPTER TWO**

Catherine grabbed Nick's bag and jacket from his locker and closed the door just as she heard a familiar voice behind her.

"You break and entering now?"

She turned to give a humourless smile to Warrick. She was still reeling from what had happened in Grissom office.

Warrick's face turned serious as soon as he saw Catherine's eyes.

"Hey, are you ok, Cath?" he asked before dropping his eyes back to the bag and jacket. Horrified, he looked back at her. "Nick…."

Catherine reached out and grabbed Warricks arm.

"He's OK." she said quickly, "He's alright."

"What's goin' on?" he asked concerned.

Catherine dropped her hand from his arm down into his hand and squeezed then moved to the door and closed it.

"Nick's in trouble." she said simply. "His family is being targeted by a crime ring. He's alright. We're moving him to a safe house tonight."

Warrick looked at her dumbfounded.

"A safe house? You're kidding, right?"

Catherine gave a slight shake of the head.

"They murdered his sister and her husband in Illanois."Warrick gaped at her, open mouthed.

"What? Jesus!"

"But, Warrick, you can't say anything to anyone. You understand that. Nothing! The only people who know are me, Grissom, Jim and the Under sheriff. It's Nick's safety on the line, OK?"

Warrick nodded, clearly shocked by the news.

"Yeah, yeah, OK."

"I've got to go, they're waiting for these things before they move him. Not a word Warrick. If anyone asks, just say he's gone home sick, OK?"

Warrick nodded again, stunned.

"Cath," he said as she reached the door, "tell Nick…well, just tell him I said 'Hey'…and that I'm here if he needs anything."

Catherine gave him a half smile and nodded.

"Will do." she said

Catherine knocked a couple of times quietly on Grissom's office door before entering anyway. Grissom was sitting behind his desk quietly watching Nick who was sitting forward in stunned silence on Grissom's leather reading chair at the side of the room. His eyes were red and his skin was as pale as the surrounding walls. Jim was talking quietly on his cell phone, pacing forward and back unconsciously.

She dropped Nick's belongings on the floor just inside the door and looked over to Grissom, who drew his gaze from his young colleague to his closest friend and gave a shrug.

Nick had barely moved since Catherine had gone. Grissom wasn't entirely sure that he had even realised she had gone. Once they had finished telling him about his family he had lapsed into an almost catatonic state, not interested in anything going on around him. Grissom had laid a hand on his bicep and guided him from the uncomfortable plastic chair to the more comfortable leather one, but he doubted Nick even noticed the difference.

He had known Nick for several years now and knew exactly how important family was to him. It was everything. The loss of his sister and brother-in-law, particularly in such a brutal manner, would take a major toll on the young man.

Jim flicked his cell closed and sighed deeply.

"OK, let's get this show on the road." he said. "I've got two plain clothes officers waiting for us at our safe house in Henderson. Got his gear? Let's move."

Catherine sat in the back of the SUV with Nick. He hadn't said a word since they left the lab and sat in a stony silence, head resting against the cool glass window and watching as house after house rolled by.

The trip was relatively short and Catherine looked at the small nondescript house as they pulled into the driveway. The same cut-out style design was replicated down both sides of the street.

The four colleagues walked to the front door, Jim in front, Nick in the centre and Grissom and Catherine franking him.

Brass knocked on the door before turning and looking quickly up and down the length of the street. The door opened and a tall, solidly built man appeared. Brass murmured a greeting and they quickly entered and shut the door.

Nick stood just inside the door way and looked around the living room. It was small and sparsely decorated with an old sofa, a four seater dining table and chairs, a small coffee table in the centre of the room and an old television sitting on a stand. A handful of generic looking pictures were framed and hanging on the walls.

"It'll only be for a few days, Nicky." Catherine said softly, resting a gentle hand against his arm, "A couple of weeks most."

Grissom shot her a concerned look. There was no point in promising a time frame. Nobody could guess how long the situation would last for and, until the risk to Nick's safety had been neutralised, he would have to stay in the safe house with 24 hour protection.

"Nick, this is Aaron Murphy, he'll be one of the officers assigned to your personal security." said Jim, gesturing to the burly man who had answered the door, "and Michael Faustino" he continued as he nodded towards a smaller, wiry man. The taller man nodded at the introduction before Jim gestured at him and the two men walked to the smaller man, discussing the ins and outs of the protection detail.

"Come on, Nick," said Catherine, taking the jacket from him, "lets get you settled in."

Nick dropped his gaze back to the floor and followed her through the living room to the kitchenette. She tossed his jacket onto the counter and continued through to the hallway and down to the bedrooms. There were two small bedrooms both decorated with a single bed, a wardrobe and a desk against the wall.

"Which room do you want, Nicky?" she asked.

Nick shrugged and shook his head slightly.

"Don't care." he mumbled.

Catherine poked her head into both rooms before deciding on the first one.

"Let's see how you're off for food." she said, heading back out to the kitchenette.

Catherine and Grissom stayed for a couple of hours until the sun was well up and Nick was settled in. He was walking in a fog most of the time and would dissolve in heartbreaking tears periodically when the reality that he had lost his sister settled in again. The thought of their lost future and the four orphaned children made him physically ache. It was made so much worse with the fact that he was going through it without the support of his family and the underlying worry about their own safety.

When everyone had finally left, Nick left the two officers in the living room and headed for his temporary bedroom. He closed the curtains to shut out the bright morning light and lay down on the bed. He curled up on his side and let the slide show of his memories overtake him, memories of his childhood and of his beloved big sister, Julia. He remembered being there at her wedding - how proud he had been of her - and then visiting her a few days after she had first become a mother. Nick had cradled his newborn niece, Cassie, in his arms and talked to his sister about her hopes and dreams for her expanding family.

The tears came freely as he thought how it was all in vain. How she would never experience the joys of her family growing up - all the dreams she had talked about that night had evaporated in an instant - and how she had been such a wonderful mother to her children. She had enjoyed every aspect of motherhood. But her greatest desire was to protect her children from all harm throughout their lives.

And that had been denied her as well.

The tears intensified and he curled in tighter, hugging his pillow hard against his chest and burying his face into it to drown out the sound of his misery.

Nick managed a couple of hours of broken sleep. He was so exhausted he could barely focus but every time he succumbed to sleep his unconscious mind would take over with imagined thoughts of Julia's last moments and he would wake sweating, shaking and teary.

He dragged himself up from the bed and scrubbed at his face with his hands. He felt filthy. He didn't have a change of clothes and had slept in the same jeans and shirt he had been wearing all shift the night before. He hoped Catherine remembered to bring him at least a fresh shirt.

The cold rock of grief still sat heavily in the middle of his chest. It was a physical ache. Painful, penetrating deep into his body.

He stood up and stretched. He hadn't slept in a single bed since college and he couldn't say that he'd missed it.

He made his way to the bathroom and splashed cold water on his face several times before looking up and catching a glimpse of himself in the mirror. He brought his head up to refocus on the image. He looked like crap. Eyes bloodshot, dark circles around them, face pale and drawn. He stared at his own reflection for several long minutes. Twenty four hours earlier his life had been normal. Now…now he had lost his sister, his brother-in-law, his nieces and nephews were orphans, his family was shattered and he was holed up in a dingy safe house being babysat by two plain clothed officers.

Twenty four hours.

How could a life change so dramatically in such a short period of time?

Dragging himself back from his reverie he headed stiffly down the corridor and into the small kitchenette. Murphy was sitting in the living room, television off, flicking through the days paper for what looked like the umpteenth time - he seemed very disinterested in the articles.

He looked up as Nick walked in and nodded in acknowledgment.

"Captain Brass was by before," he said in a deep, gruff voice. "He brought over some food. There's some cereal in the cupboard, bread, milk, whatever you need."Nick nodded at him.

"Thanks." he murmured.

"Did you sleep at all?" Murphy asked.

Nick shrugged and poured himself a bowl of cereal. He wasn't in the least bit hungry but figured he should try and eat something.

"Got a couple of hours."

More silence.

"You want to read the paper?" asked Murphy.

Nick shook his head.

"Nah," he said, "might just watch a bit of TV."

He doubted he could focus long enough to read a paper. He didn't even care what was in the news. None of it seemed very important now. At least with watching TV he didn't have to concentrate. He could pretend to be interested in watching whatever was on.

"OK, man." Murphy continued. "Well you just let me know if you need anything."

Nick nodded again.

"Thanks." he said before settling himself on the sofa with his 'breakfast'.

The two men sat in companionable silence, Nick finishing off his cereal and Murphy continuing to flick through the paper aimlessly.

The burble of daytime television acted a little like an anaesthetic. Nick put the empty bowl on the coffee table and stretched out on the sofa, feeling his eyes getting heavy. The lack of proper sleep combined with the banal drama on the TV won out and Nick lost the battle to stay awake. The sofa was significantly more comfortable than the single bed and he slept soundly for several hours.

He woke suddenly, disorientated.

He had dreamt of yelling.

Of frantic movement.

Of a gunshot.

But as soon as he was conscious he realised it hadn't been a dream at all.

Murphy had his gun drawn in an instant and was racing to the sofa, radioing in as he moved, demanding backup.

"Stokes! Move!" he ordered as he reached out and grabbed Nick's shirt front, dragging him forcibly to his feet and pushing him back towards the bedrooms.

Nick stumbled down the corridor, adrenaline making his mind suddenly awake but his muscles and limbs struggled to keep up.

He reached the entrance to the bedroom as he heard the sick sound of the front door being kicked in and gunfire being exchanged.

_Jesus! JESUS! They're in the house!_

He whirled around and saw Murphy crouched next to the kitchenette counter, firing desperately in an attempt to keep the perpetrator away from Nick. He spared a second to lock eyes with Nick and to gesture him to get away. In that split second a bullet ripped through his shoulder. The seasoned officer barked in pain but kept on firing - trying to give Nick enough time to save himself.

Horrified, Nick acted on instinct. Unarmed, he was an easy target. There was nothing he could do for Murphy or the other officer but to run - to try and draw the shooter away from them and after him instead.

Flicking the door shut he pulled at the desk with almost superhuman strength and dragged it to use as a barricade.

Racing to the window, he ripped open the curtain, pulled open the window and threw himself out, catching his foot on the sill and tumbling hard, landing on his shoulder.

Things were quiet inside the house.

A bad sign.

A very bad sign.

Suddenly, another gunshot followed by crashing.

Whoever was after him was trying to break through the into the bedroom.

Panic forced him to his feet and he ran.

Night was falling fast and he couldn't really see where he was going, but he ran anyway.

He didn't know the area at all, but he didn't care. He had to get away. He had to get as far away from the safe house as he could.

The safe house was no longer safe.

**As always, please review. Even if it's just a few words. Anything. It is all appreciated. **


	3. Chapter 3

**OK - have fixed the problem of the underlining and the bold print - sorry, don't really know how that happened. Must be a gremlin in my computer. Thanks for all the great reviews. Another chapter. I tried to write the whole story this time before posting so as not to have any drawn out waits like I usually tend to do. But, I still have a couple of chapters to do…..**

**CHAPTER 3**

He had no idea where he was running to, but he just knew he had to keep going. He had to put as much distance as he possibly could between the safe house and himself.

In the distance he heard police sirens.

Lots of police sirens.

He almost stopped, thinking for a brief second that he should go to them. That he would be safe if he could only get to the police.

But a voice in his head stopped him.

_How did they find me? They must have been tipped off._

But by who? Only a handful of people knew that he was in protective custody. He knew that his colleagues would never betray him. He knew he could trust Grissom and Catherine. He knew he could trust Brass. There was only one person left who had known where he was…the Under Sherriff.

His shocked mind raced with the thought of the level of the betrayal and it hit him. If that was the case, going to the police was no longer an option. If he turned himself in, the Under Sherriff would have him tracked down and killed. If he went to his colleagues for help, he would risk making them targets as well.

All he could do was to run. To run as far away from the gun wielding madman as he could.

He lost count of how many fences he crashed over, how many dogs charged at him as he ran through strangers manicured lawns or how many times he tripped, staggered or just plain fell over. But each time, he pulled himself up and kept going.

He kept going even though his breathing came in ragged, wheezy gulps.

He kept going even though his muscles were spasming and screaming at him to stop. He had to keep going. He had to…

But finally his body gave out.

He physically could not go any further.

He clutched as a painful stitch kicked him in his side and he collapsed, exhausted, on the ground. He lay there gasping for breath for only a minute before dragging himself to his feet and stumbling several yards and dropping down ungraciously behind a tree.

He gulped mouthfuls of air, trying to hold it with each one so he could listen for any sound of being followed, but the pounding of his heart almost deafened him and made it impossible to hear anything else.

It took a couple of minutes, but his breathing finally started to return to normal. It was dark and the cold night air made him feel sick coupled with the heat radiating off him from the extreme physical demands of the endurance run. He could hear the sounds of traffic on the nearby road but otherwise all was quiet.

He leant his back up against the tree and brought his knees up and wrapped his arms around them - huddling up as the night air rapidly cooled off his sweaty body. He couldn't stop the shakes that gradually overtook every part of him. He hugged himself tightly and didn't bother to try and stop the frightened tears that coursed down his cheeks.

Jim Brass felt ill.

He looked at the body of Aaron Murphy. There was a gunshot through his left shoulder and another to his head. There was a blood pool in the front garden of the house but no sign of either Officer Faustino or of Nick.

Yet there was room for hope.

There was no blood evidence in the bedroom and the window was ajar.

It was just possible that Nick could have gotten out alive.

There was hope.

A sharp intake of breath caught his attention. He turned to see a pale Catherine Willows in the doorway. Grissom stood close behind her looking grim.

"Oh my God." murmured Catherine under her breath. "Jim, where's Nick?"

Jim walked over to the two CSI's.

"There's no sign of him." Jim replied solemnly. "The window's open in his bedroom. I'm guessing he got out. Whether or not he got away…that's anyone's guess."

Catherine brought a hand up and wiped the right hand side of her face in despair.

She loved Nick like a son and knew he was strong. But what hope did he have alone on the streets of Las Vegas with an armed assassin hunting him down?

"What happened?" she asked under her breath. "He had two armed officers guarding him."

Jim looked solemn.

"Aaron Murphy's dead. There's no sign of Michael Faustino. Whoever did this may have taken him hostage as a trade for Nick. There's evidence that he's sustained some sort of penetrative injury from the amount of blood in the yard."Catherine looked horror struck.

"So, he's a dead man." she said bluntly. "They must know we would never trade one life for another."

Grissom placed a hand on Catherine's forearm, a frown furrowing his brow.

"How did they find him?" he asked. "There were only a limited number of people who knew Nick was here."

"You think it could be Mobley?" Catherine asked, shocked

Grissom shook his head a little.

"I can't see him selling Nick out."Catherine pursed her lips and glanced at Grissom.

"Are you positive he couldn't be bought?" she asked.

Grissom frowned at her.

"I've had my differences with him," Grissom said, "but I trust him. I don't believe he would risk sacrificing his career for the sake of one drug dealer with a chip on his shoulder.""So, what?" Brass asked sharply, "You think it's one of us then? We're the only other people who knew about this. You think it's me or Catherine?"

Grissom raised his eyebrow at the police captain.

"No, I don't" he replied quietly, "But, we weren't the only other ones to know."Catherine and Brass exchanged glances.

"Officer Faustino knew the whereabouts of Nick. He knew when we were moving him. He knew when we weren't going to be here. He's missing too."Brass glared at him.

"Now hang on, Gil." he said, suddenly angry, "You can't blame Faustino just because your gut 'trusts' Mobley. There's a blood pool in the front yard. My officer is missing. It doesn't mean he was involved."

Grissom stared back at him.

"It doesn't mean he's not involved, either." he replied. "He's a suspect…we're all suspects. The reality is, I know it wasn't me and I trust both you and Catherine completely. I trust Mobley. I don't know officer Faustino. I'm willing to keep an open mind but, he has to be the primary suspect at this point."

Catherine glanced from Brass back to Grissom.

"So, what do we do about Nick?"

Grissom shrugged.

"I don't think there's a lot we can do. We can't put out a broadcast without drawing attention to him.""So, we just wait for this sick bastard to find him first?" Catherine snapped.

Grissom sighed.

"We wait for him to come to us." he replied. "He knows where we are. He knows he can trust us."

"And what if he can't." she asked.

Grissom glanced at her again.

"We can't do anything for him until he comes to us, Catherine." he replied. "All we can do for him until then is process this scene."

Nick pushed on through the darkness.

His muscles were spasming but he kept going regardless.

Every now and then he would have to stop and recover his breath and to massage out the stitch which kicked him periodically in his side. A couple of times he had to stop to throw up. But panic kept the adrenaline pumping enough to see him through hour after hour.

He had covered miles - heading for the bright lights of the strip, the distant glow drawing him like a moth to a flame - and yet he still seemed to be miles away. He collapsed down onto his knees and cried out in frustration. Tears coursed down his face. He was exhausted to the point that his legs would no longer support his weight. His mind was racing - thoughts of his sister merged with the sound of gunfire. He looked around him in sheer desperation trying to get his bearings.

Nothing looked familiar.

He knew he had started in Henderson but had no idea where he was now.

He tried to calm his mind long enough to do the math. He took a few deep steadying breaths and dragged his arm across his streaming nose.

OK….

He knew Henderson was a little over 15 miles from downtown Vegas.

He knew he could run 5 miles in around 30 minutes under normal training conditions.

But these were hardly normal conditions.

It was dark. He didn't know which way he was heading. He was exhausted.

He looked at the glow of the city lights again.

He had been running through residential suburbs for the last couple of hours which had been quiet and dark but he could hear the rumble of a major highway running to his left. Provided he was still in the Henderson area he guessed it may be the Las Vegas Expressway - the main thoroughfare from the city to the outskirt suburb.

If he followed it all the way back towards the lights, he could wait until morning when the airport would jump back into life, and the planes could lead him back to the Strip.

And then what?

If the Under Sherriff was involved then he could no longer trust the police.

He felt the panic rising once again. He could feel himself beginning to shiver as the cold night air chilled his sweat drenched clothes.

What in the hell was he going to do?

He couldn't run forever.

He couldn't go to his friends for help without putting them at risk as well.

He was all alone.

He rubbed his hands vigorously over his arms to try and keep warm.

He had to keep moving.

He had to keep going.

He had to cross the goddamn expressway if he was going to get back to the city centre.

Slowly he dragged himself back up onto his feet and stumbled off towards the sound of the busy roadway.

He would have to cross it now, before the new day began and the traffic increased even more.

**As always, thanks for taking the time to read my story. I apologise for any inaccuracies in distances etc - given that I don't come from the US, I have had to rely on the net. I hope you are enjoying it. Please take a moment to write a review. **


	4. Chapter 4

**Many thanks again to everyone who reviewed the last few chapters. It's greatly appreciated to get feedback and, as I have limited access to the internet at times, it's often difficult to reply individually. But, I appreciate every review and am very grateful. Please remember when reading on that this is pure fiction - the story takes huge liberties with reality. **

**CHAPTER FOUR**

Nick struggled on block after block, his weary body protesting with every step. He had to make it to the expressway before dawn.

He cursed as he made his way down street after street, trying to use the light from street lamps while staying in the shadows and out of sight as much as possible. Time after time he headed down a street, before realising it either ended abruptly in a cul-du-sac or else doubled back and exited on the same street as where he started.

He finally reached it. Protected by a large concrete barrier, the expressway was lit up with bright street lamps along its length.

Nick cursed again as he clambered up the high concrete wall. He hung on by his fingers as he peered over the edge and figured out a strategy for crossing the roadway.

He dropped back down and slapped the concrete barrier with his hand.

"Shit!" he cursed under his breath. "Shit! Shit! Shit! Shit!"

He dropped back down to his knees and twisted around to slam his back against the wall.

He had no idea how he was going to do it, but he had to. He had to scale the wall, make his way across the road, and clamber back up the opposing concrete barrier.

It wouldn't be able to be done quickly and he was well aware that he would be highly visible and obvious for the duration.

But it had to be done.

He took a few more steadying breaths and looked across at the nearby street.

At last, something went his way.

There were large rubbish bins lining the street outside every house.

Smiling in relief he pushed himself up from the ground, wincing as his stiff muscles protested, and went to the nearest one, pulling it back up the slight rise to the concrete wall. A few door down he heard a dog start barking.

He willed it to stop as he pushed the bin over onto its side so that it was a little more stable, and climbed up onto it. It gave him enough height that he could get a good grip on the top of the wall and pull himself up and over.

He caught his breath again as he swung his legs over and dropped unceremoniously over and down the other side. He landed heavily and skidded down the slight decline towards the emergency lane of the highway.

A passing car sounded its horn at him but continued on without stopping.

Nick was suddenly completely alert.

Judging the gaps in the traffic he waited until all the lanes were clear and bolted, sprinting like a chased rabbit until he was safely across on the centre strip separating the inbound and outbound lanes.

Steadying his nerve, he waited until the traffic thinned out enough on the other lanes and, again, took a deep breath and sprinted across to the other side. More cars sounded their horns, one breaking to avoid the crazed man with an obvious death wish.

Once safely across, he leapt up to try and get a good grip on the concrete barrier, but it was much more difficult without the benefit of the bin.

He tried several more times, each time just narrowly missing and feeling his hands drag painfully over the rough concrete.

Several long minutes passed, and the longer he spent trying and failing to climb it, the more tired he became.

Suddenly his hearing picked up the sound of approaching sirens.

He cursed again. One of the drivers must have called the police and reported him.

Panic surged through him again and gave him the momentary shot of adrenaline he needed to give it one more go. This time…success.

He gained just enough height to be able to grab the lip of the wall and to pull himself painfully up to the top. The momentum of the jump however caused him to lose his balance and, instead of a controlled manoeuvre over the top of the wall, his body instead tumbled ungraciously over and he plummeted down the steep incline and into the gravel pit below.

He felt a sudden tearing and an intense burning in his shoulder before he heard a loud snap followed rapidly by a pain so severe he didn't even cry out.

He rolled onto his back, cradling his left arm close to his body with his right one. He felt dampness down the side of his arm and suddenly became aware of a throbbing pain in his head too - but it paled in comparison to the pain in his shoulder.

He screwed his eyes shut against the pain and stifled a sob as he heard the sirens which had pre-empted the jump. They appeared to have stopped directly on the other side of the wall.

He held his breath but couldn't hear anything other than the rushing of blood in his ears.

Biting down on his lower lip and screwing his eyes shut tight, Nick gasped in pain as he forced himself back onto his feet and stumbled blindly across the gravel. The loose rocks under his feet combined with his blurred vision caused him to trip and fall a handful of times, pain ripping across his shoulder and down his left arm each time. His feet slipped out from under him one more time and he slid several feet down into a small drainage creek, crashing into scrubby bushes on the creeks edge.

He lay still for several long minutes trying to catch his breath against the pain, pinning his injured arm tightly against his chest for support.

He opened his eyes as the intensity of the pain eased ever so slightly, and gazed up into the sky, trying to pick out any stars which weren't dissolved by the city lights as a means to distract himself from his injuries, but his vision was too blurry with tears to focus effectively. A sudden beam of light swept erratically above him and at first he thought his mind was playing tricks on him. But his brain finally registered it and his breath caught as another burst of panic exploded inside of him.

Torch light.

They were looking for him.

He held his breath and froze in his current position, moving just his eyes to follow the beam of light back to its origin.

He could just make out the silhouette of a head looking over the top of the concrete barrier, illuminated by the back lights of the street lamps. The beam did several passes over the gravel where Nick had fallen before both the torch and the head disappeared.

Nick lay silently in the bushes, too scared and in too much pain to move.

He finally forced himself to sit up a little and to look around, trying to get some grasp of his location. There were no houses anywhere nearby, just vacant land for as far as he could see in the weak moonlight.

He didn't know if he would be safe staying where he was, but he didn't think he was in any state to move anymore. At least not for the next few hours.

The first weak rays of daylight were starting to make their way across the sky.

Nick lay his head back down. He would bring too much attention to himself if he tried to travel by foot during the daylight hours. He would have to wait until nightfall again to continue.

He was hardly comfortable but, hunkered down amidst the scrappy bushes, he was out of sight to anyone who may wander through the area - they would almost have to stand directly on him to realise he was there. He would also be mostly protected from the harsh sun.

So, closing his eyes, Nick cradled his broken shoulder tightly, and prepared himself to wait out the day.

Catherine paced back and forth in the break room of the lab.

She had spent the night processing the safe house with Grissom. Nick's disappearance was still being treated on a need to know basis. The murder of Aaron Murphy was being considered a drug raid gone wrong.

"Catherine, that's not helping."

Grissom's perfectly calm voice only succeeded in exacerbating her irritation and she flicked her hair with unnecessary force and shot him a glare.

"What if they've already found him, Gil?" she asked, frustrated.

Grissom, who was sitting at the table working on a case file, put down his pen, removed his glasses and held them between the fingers of both hands. He had been trying hard to concentrate on finishing the paperwork from a break and enter the night before to take his mind off the unfolding events. Catherine's anxiety, however, was making it nigh on impossible to concentrate.

"Our hands are tied, Catherine." he said simply. "We can't draw attention to him by using the police to try and find him. We do that and we might as well be signing his death warrant. If it is Officer Faustino who's helping Escoband, he's still got access to a departmental radio. If it's the Under Sherriff…well, he has access to everything in the department."

"I know. I know." Catherine spat out in frustration. "But….it's Nicky. If something happens to him Gil…."

"Catherine, we have to be patient. Nick knows he can trust us. We have to wait for him to come to us - then we can try and help him."

Catherine frowned and recommenced her pacing.

"And pray to God he's able to get to us in time." she finished quietly.

A sudden noise caused Nick to jerk back into consciousness, the spasm of stiff muscles which accompanied his abrupt wakefulness caused him to gasp and pain kicked him in the shoulder again and a wave of nausea washed over him. The sun was high in the sky and it became immediately apparent to Nick that he had been either asleep or unconscious for a number of hours.

There was the noise again.

Nick became rigid with fear and fought to keep his breathing from being too audible.

Voices.

He could hear distinct voices speaking in low tones as they drew closer.

"He could be anywhere by now." a deep male voice said.

"So, we keep looking." Another deep voice answered - this one laced with a strong Spanish lilt, "the callout said he was seen in this area."

"If he had so many kids, why are we focusing so much on this one? Why not just take out one of the others?"

"Because! I don't have access to the others. I have access to this one."

Nick could hear the footsteps getting closer and squeezed his eyes shut tight, trying to hold his breath so as not to give away his position.

A handful of gravel skittered down the incline into the bushes where Nick hid. He cracked one of his eyes open and watched a shadow pass over the rim of the creek bank and continue downstream. The voices faded and Nick let himself breath normally again, although the adrenaline release caused by panic raised the tempo. He remained silent and still for what seemed like an eternity - until his body's muscles spasmed in response to the inactivity.

And yet still he forced himself to remain still. His shoulder ached with such an intensity that it throbbed in time with his rapid heartbeat. He knew, however, that as soon as he moved, the pain would be so much worse. He needed to brace it, find something he could use as a sling.

He listened for any further sounds and heard nothing but the rustle of branches in the light breeze. The sun was getting lower in the sky but was still burning hot and Nick estimated it was mid afternoon. He closed his eyes again and tried to settle his breathing with the hope that it would dull the pain enough to maybe get another couple of hours of rest.

The cold rock of grief in his chest was ever-present. It sucked all the energy out of him and intensified the physical pain he was feeling all over. His eyes pricked with tears and he closed his eyes and turned his head to rest against his shoulder. He had never felt so alone and frightened in all his life.

**As always, reviews are greatly, greatly appreciated.**


	5. Chapter 5

**Many thanks to all those who have been reviewing this story. I really appreciate it.**

CHAPTER FIVE

Nick rested as best he could until the sun dipped below the horizon and the darkness of night arrived once again.

He had been lying in the same spot for close to 15 hours and his muscles protested violently at the simple movement of sitting up. He pinned his injured arm tightly to his chest and closed his eyes against the wave of pain. Taking a deep breath in he slowly pushed himself to his feet, staggering as his vision faded in and out and nausea rose up in the back of his throat.

He took his first tentative steps and stumbled a few feet before his bones and muscles started co-operating again. But, with the pain from his shoulder, he hadn't realised the pain in his knee until he had to walk. He realised he must have twisted it as well on his tumble down the steep incline. He was still able to walk so he continued on as best he could.

He had to start moving East to get back to the city centre and used the lights of the strip and the incoming planes as a guide to stay on target.

He followed the creek's path for several miles, ending up in a wide grassy area. Trying to keep to the wooded areas in order to avoid detection, he pushed on. Giant manicured grassed areas meant one thing - he had found himself a golf course. Trying to picture the outskirts of Las Vegas in his head, he finally got his bearings. He was only a handful of miles from the Strip.

As he walked, he tried to formulate a plan. He needed help. He couldn't do this on his own.

He knew the police were out. The Under Sherriff would be monitoring all radio contact.

He couldn't go home - they would be sure to be watching it as well.

Grissom.

He knew that whoever was hunting him down would, no doubt, also be watching his colleagues, but there was no other alternative.

He needed his boss now more than ever before and he had to figure out a way to contact him without being found out.

He walked the length of the golf course, having to sit and rest from time to time whenever the pain in his shoulder became unmanageable and his knee could no longer support his weight. He had felt the material of his jeans getting tighter and tighter around his knee as it swelled and, resting his good hand gingerly on the swollen joint at one point, he could feel the heat radiating from it.

He had to keep moving. He knew that if he stopped for any extended time, he may not be able to make his knee co-operate again.

Catherine felt haggard. She hadn't slept at all since Nick went missing. She had spent several hours after her shift had finished driving around Henderson and through various suburbs on her way back into the city searching for any sign of him.

She had been convinced that she would find him and had become more and more frustrated the longer she drove.

She had ended up back at the lab.

Sitting alone in the locker room, she had made a quick phone call to her mother to arrange babysitting for Lindsay before getting a couple of hours rest in the break room.

Grissom had arrived earlier than scheduled as well. He had found it difficult to sleep but had still managed at least a handful of hours.

He paused at the door of the break room to watch Catherine fight to stay awake. She felt his eyes on her and looked up giving a wan smile in greeting.

"Any news?" he asked quietly.

Catherine gave a half-hearted shrug.

"The blood from the front yard of the safe house came back as animal blood." she said quietly. "Looks like a ruse to try and shift the blame from Officer Faustino."

Grissom gave a slight shrug. It was not unexpected.

"Have you been home?" he continued.

Again, Catherine shook her head, before dropping it back down into her hands.

"I couldn't sleep anyway." she replied.

Grissom sighed and went to the coffee machine, picked up the empty coffee canister, frowned, and helped himself to Greg's stash of designer coffee instead.

"I just keep thinking about Nick." she continued. "What if they've found him. What if he's hurt."

Grissom closed his eyes for a brief moment and sighed.

"Catherine, you should go home." he said simply.

Catherine's head snapped up to glare at him. Grissom stood his ground.

"Go home and get some sleep. You're going to be no use to him in this condition even if he shows up.""At least I'll be here." she argued.

"And so will I." replied Grissom. "Go home. I'll call you as soon as there's any news."

Catherine opened her mouth to argue but Grissom cut her off before she could speak.

"Go home."

Catherine's eyes sparkled with intensity but she wisely didn't push further.

"Fine!" she spat out as she pushed herself up and headed for the door. "You'd better call me."Grissom smiled at her.

"I will." he promised.

Nick stumbled on, the time in between rests decreasing as his knee became more and more stiff and swollen. He continued to cling desperately to his broken shoulder trying to stop the grating pain that stabbed him with every step. It took him several long hours, but eventually he made it to the city's edge just as the first rays of daylight broke through the night.

One of the benefits of his job was that he knew the city like the back of his hand. He knew what areas would be heavily populated and what wouldn't. His brain was so addled with pain that the only thing he could clearly think of was to get to somewhere out of sight. Somewhere where he wouldn't draw attention with his useless arm and hobbling.

He dragged himself to the outskirts of the Strip then continued on past. He had formulated the skeleton of a plan while he had walked the distance from the golf club to the city. A couple of months earlier there had been a multiple assault at an abandoned casino in the 'ghost-town' area of Las Vegas. Only a couple of blocks from the Strip was the graveyard of Vegas - an area of closed down casinos and restaurants which was due to be redeveloped over the next few years. But until then, it was an area most people preferred to stay away from. Dark, abandoned and with a high crime rate.

But Nick was out of options. He had to find somewhere fast where he could hide until the sun went down again.

He was almost unable to walk by the time he arrived at the wire fence around the casino. Designed to keep people out, it was well over 6 feet tall and chain linked. Fortunately, putting such a fence around a vacated building in Vegas was an open invitation for local youths, gangs and vagrants to break through it and Nick found a cut away area almost immediately. He crashed through the hole and tripped as his foot caught in the base of the wire sending him tumbling head over heels.

He cried out at the intense pain and cradled his arm even tighter as he sobbed in agony. It took him several long minutes to regain his composure enough to drag himself the several yards to the casino's kicked in door. He crawled into the dark building and collapsed just inside the doorway.

Bright sunlight streamed through the glass-less window panes by the time Nick regained consciousness. All he could smell was dust and he hurt badly…everywhere. It took a lot of effort to simply roll onto his back. He dragged himself backwards until his back leant up against the wall. His body was shaking and his mouth was so dry that it was hard to swallow.

He couldn't go much further.

In fact, he wasn't sure he could go on at all.

He lay his head back against the dirty plaster wall and jammed the index finger and thumb of his good hand into his eye sockets as the desperation of his situation caught up with him again. The sick desperate longing for his sister was pushed aside ever so slightly by the thought that he might be reunited with her sooner rather than later. He fought hard against the ever present tears.

He was alone and afraid and didn't know what in the hell he could do to get out of this godforsaken situation.

Jose Escoband sat in silence on the corner of a bed in a very basic motel room. He held an aged photograph of his son between both hands.

Officer Faustino sat on the motel sofa with his feet resting on the coffee table and watched a football match on TV. He reached for the remote control and started flicking through the channels, pausing for a second on each channel before changing it.

This continued for several long minutes before Jose rose abruptly, marched to the TV set and pulled the power cord from the socket.

"Hey!" Faustino protested but fell silent at the glare he received from Escoband.

"Fine," he murmured under his breath before pushing himself upright. "So, what's the plan?" he asked, becoming frustrated with the lack of progress.

"We find Stokes, and we kill him." Escoband replied coldly, "Which part do you find confusing?"

Faustino glared at him.

"And how do you expect to find him in this city?" he asked. "Walk the streets and wait until we spot him? It's Las Vegas for Christ's sake! We may as well be looking for a needle in a haystack!"

The fist the struck Officer Faustino's head was so swift he did not have time to defend himself. He hit the floor, dazed. A boot followed the fist and his vision swam even more. His eyes tried to focus on Escoband - trying to register what was going on. He could barely make out that he had something in his hands and then….it suddenly dawned on him what was about to happen but he didn't have time to beg before a bullet ended his life.

Escoband barely gave Faustino's body a second glance as he casually set down his weapon. The Officer had outlived his usefulness. He had led him to his target once but he did not have the patience to wait until Stokes surfaced again.

And he would resurface.

Eventually he would have to come out of hiding, and Escoband could almost guarantee that when he did, he would head to his work colleagues for help.

Nick sat, lost in thought, for several hours - trying to rest his knee as much as possible before nightfall when he would have to move again. He was exhausted. Mentally and physically. But he daren't fall asleep. In this neighbourhood he knew he had to keep his wits about him. Although he doubted he had the physical stamina to defend himself if he had to.

His body shuddered involuntarily. It was a humid day in Las Vegas and it made the old casino like a furnace with the broken windows letting the heat in as easily as if the walls did not exist. The air was heavy with moisture and, coupled with his dehydration, it made Nicks head throb. The throbbing headache made his stomach churn.

He was the epitome of misery.

The smell of rain was quickly followed by the sound of drops hitting the window pane. Nick closed his eyes and listened to the increased pace of the drops and felt the slightest breeze make its way through the window and across to where he was sitting.

He didn't sleep, but he was able to rest without disturbance until the light streaming into the dingy room disappeared and night fell once more.

He sighed deeply and pushed himself painfully to his feet. He kept a steadying hand against the dirty plaster wall until his head cleared enough that he no longer felt as if he was going to pass out.

It was time to move on.

Time to get help.

**I hope you're enjoying this story. Please consider taking a moment or two to add a comment by hitting that review button. **


	6. Chapter 6

**Nearly there! Please read on….**

**CHAPTER 6**

The night went by painfully slowly. Catherine was trying hard to focus on a domestic break in. She had, for the first time in her career, completely destroyed several fingerprint lifts. She cursed under her breath, ripped off her gloves in anger and scrubbed at her face.

Sara appeared at her shoulder and glanced at the fingerprint attempt before turning her gaze back to Catherine.

"Hey," she said in a voice a little more than a whisper, "are you OK? You haven't been yourself for a few days now."

Catherine pushed herself to her feet and turned abruptly.

"Yeah," she replied. "Yeah, I'm fine."

She walked away, needing to clear her head.

"I'll finish up here then." Sara called after her.

Catherine didn't acknowledge the comment but continued walking until she got outside. She took a couple of steadying breaths and sat down on the front step of the house.

It had been a long 3 days. She just needed to know that Nick was alive and that he was OK.

After taking a few minutes, she pushed herself up from the step and headed back inside to continue processing the scene.

Sara gave her a concerned glance when she arrived back to continue printing the scene.

"Don't ask, Sara, OK? I'm fine." she said before Sara had a chance to comment.

Sara raised her eyebrows and held up her hands in surrender. But she didn't ask any more questions and went back to processing the front of the house.

Grissom was walking back from the police department to the lab when Jim Brass caught up to him.

"Any news?" he asked quietly.

Grissom gave a brief shake of his head.

"Nothing from Nick, but we got the results of the blood pool back from DNA and it wasn't Officer Faustino's." he replied.

Brass raised his eyebrows.

"Escoband?" he asked in surprise.

Grissom shook his head again.

"Animal." he replied simply.

"Animal?" Brass asked incredulously, "How the hell did animal blood get there?"Grissom shrugged.

"My guess is that Escoband was trying to shift the blame from Faustino - to make it look like he was an innocent in this. With the time we spent focusing on finding him as well as Nick, it would give him extra time to find Nick and he knew if the police were involved in finding one of their own then there would be a lot of activity on the police radio. He'd be able to keep up to date with what we knew."

Brass shook his head.

"We can't be certain that Faustino was involved, though. We can't rule out that he's being kept against his will - as security for Escoband."

Grissom frowned at him.

"Jim, we have to believe what the evidence tells us. There was no sign of blood belonging to Faustino. His prints are through the house. We haven't received any ransom requests. And someone wanted to get to Nick and found him despite only a handful of people knowing his whereabouts - one of them being Officer Faustino. OK, so we can't conclusively say that he was involved, but based on the evidence we have to suspect that he was."

"So because he's a cop he has to be involved?" Brass pushed. Like Catherine and Grissom, Brass was exhausted. He hated to think that cops could be bought and, combined with his tiredness, it came through as hostility.

"It's got nothing to do with him being a member of the police force." Grissom continued stubbornly. "It has to do with the evidence. If Faustino was involved, it would explain how Escoband knew so quickly where Nick was staying. Of course, it may mean that there were others in the department who were involved too."

Grissom paused as this train of thought took over in his brain. Jim glared at him and waved a hand in reply as he stalked off.

Grissom rolled his eyes and continued back to the lab. He knew Jim. He knew that he just needed time to cool off. But he could do without the attitude. Things were tense enough without infighting between the only people who could potentially help Nick survive.

By the time Catherine and Sara arrived back to the lab, Catherine could barely put one foot in front of the other she was so tired. Sara was concerned but didn't push. Instead she took the collected evidence to the layout room to organise it and send it off to the various departments for further testing.

Catherine headed straight to the locker room and collected her bag. She had handed over responsibility for the case to Sara and went in search of Grissom.

She rounded a corner in the corridor and nearly ran straight into him. Grissom caught her shoulders with his hands before they connected.

"Hey." said Catherine when she regained her balance.

"Hey." Grissom replied.

"I'm finishing up early." she announced. "I need to get some sleep."Grissom nodded.

"Good." he replied simply. "Make sure you hand over to Sara and I'll call you if I hear anything.""Make sure you do." she replied with the stubborn authoritative tone she always had when she was tired.

Grissom smiled briefly as she disappeared before he headed back to his office. He had a lot of work to do before he could go home.

Grissom sat in his office and looked at the reports on his desk. He pulled off his glasses and threw them forcefully onto the desk. He was frustrated at the lack of progress in finding Nick and felt inadequate knowing there was nothing he could do to help him. He knew he just had to wait and remain hopeful that Nick would be able to survive long enough to find them. And then they would have to figure out what in the hell to do then.

A knock on his office door drew him back from his thoughts.

Jim Brass stood in the door way and gave him a wan smile.

Grissom waved him towards one of the seats in front of his desk but the captain shook his head and opted instead for just taking a few steps further into the office.

"I just thought I'd drop by to let you know Officer Faustino's body has been found at a hotel on Old Tropicana." Jim said quietly. "He's been shot - presumably by Escoband."Grissom dropped his gaze to focus on his glasses, which he was slowly rotating with his fingers, and nodded slightly as what Brass had said finally made its way through to his tired brain.

"Day shift will cover it." Brass continued, "I'm telling them that Faustino was undercover when he was murdered."Grissom nodded again but still didn't look up.

"We'd better find the kid fast, Gil." said Brass, "I'm running out of lies to tell my department."

This statement did the trick and Grissom's head snapped up to make eye contact with the detective.

"I'm sorry you're in that position, Jim." he said quietly. "But, you don't really have a choice."

Jim shrugged and turned to leave.

"And, Jim." Grissom added, "I'm sorry Officer Faustino wasn't the man you thought he was."

Brass turned back and threw Grissom a challenging look. He wasn't really angry at Grissom. He was angry at his officer. He was angry at himself for being so trusting and defending his officer no matter what. He was just plain angry at the current circumstances. And he was frustrated.

But, despite this, he gave Grissom a soft, humourless snort of a laugh, shrugged once more and walked away.

Grissom watched him go. He knew Jim Brass was a fiercely loyal police officer and corruption of any sort amongst the Force was a particularly sensitive topic for him, but he also knew that following through with the discussion while he was in such a mood was futile. He would wait to talk to him once he had calmed down.

He glanced at his watch. It was time he was going home. He knew that, despite his worry for his young colleague, he needed to get some sleep. He would be no use to him if he couldn't think clearly.

He packed up his satchel, slung the strap over his shoulder and switched off the light to his office.

Pausing for a second he switched the light back on and returned to unlocked the top compartment of his desk and removed his service weapon. He was not known for carrying a gun usually, but at the moment he thought it prudent. He had no doubt that Escoband would suspect that Nick would try and make it back to his colleagues for help and, in that case, it made all of them potential targets. He knew that Catherine always carried her weapon. She was street smart. A product of Las Vegas. He was not. Securing the gun in its holster, Grissom once again switched off the light and headed out into the corridor.

"Goodnight, Mr Grissom." chirped Judy at the front desk. Despite it being almost morning, Judy had farewelled Grissom in the same manner every end of shift for as long as he could remember.

Grissom smiled at her and murmured his reply before heading out to his car.

It was dark and the night chill still hung in the concrete staff car park,.

Grissom searched for his car keys in a compartment of his satchel. His car unlocked with 2 sharp beeps and he was about to open the door when he heard the slightest of sounds. He felt the hairs on the back of his neck stand on end as he stayed perfectly still - except for his hand which edged toward his gun. Carefully, he slipped his other hand into his satchel and retrieved a small pentorch. His said un unspoken 'thankyou' for his preparedness. His satchel was always stocked with a torch, matches, print powder and latex gloves and he had had to use them on more than one occasion.

Switching on the torch, he brought his gun up to rest on top of it and swept the beam of light slowly and nervously around the vicinity where he had heard the noise.

His heart raced at what it was going to uncover - he half expected it to show Escoband aiming a gun at his head.

Instead, his torch finally fell upon the pitiful figure of Nick. He was huddled in a dark corner of the car park, sitting on the cold concrete floor with a knees drawn up and his arms cradled across his chest. He didn't seem aware that Grissom was there and didn't seem to even register the torchlight on him - he looked utterly defeated. He was soaked through to the skin and shuddering as the concrete leached the heat from his body.

Grissom's shoulders slumped at the sight and he re-holstered his gun with a relieved sigh as he made his way to his young colleague.

Crouching down in front of him, Grissom reached out a hand and touched Nick's injured shoulder, causing him to cry out with a breath that he couldn't sustain and it came out more as a strangled sob. But it did seem to jolt Nick into a state of greater awareness. He blinked at Grissom with bleary eyes, trying to work out if what he was trying to focus on was reality or just another dream.

Grissom moved his hand to rest it behind Nick's neck gently, relief washing over him in a wave. He might have been injured - but he was alive.

But the reality of the situation hit Grissom soon after. They couldn't stay there. He had to move Nick somewhere safer. He thought briefly about taking him to a hospital first to have his shoulder seen to, but decided quickly against it. He didn't want to leave any evidence of Nick's whereabouts - no official hospital records, nothing.

Instead he settled on plan B - the morgue. Dr Al Robbins would still be there from the night shift and he would be able to take a look at Nick and, at the very least provide rudimentary first aid. But he didn't want to take him through the rapidly filling corridors of the lab. He knew he had to draw the least amount of attention to themselves as possible - even at work.

Instead, he leant in close and wrapped an arm around Nick's good shoulder and behind his back.

"Nicky, it's Grissom." he said quietly, "we need to get you out of here. I need you to stand up for me - I'll help you - OK?"

Nick barely nodded and Grissom dragged him to his feet.

The pain of both his twisted knee and broken shoulder caused another sick groan to escape his lips as he collapsed against Grissom. The older man staggered under his weight but quickly recovered and tightened his grip.

Mumbling words of encouragement to Nick, Grissom coaxed him painful step by painful step to the passenger door of his car and fumbled awkwardly for the door handle, pulling it open and manoeuvred Nick into the vehicle. Nick clung onto his injured arm for dear life, squeezing his eyes closed tight against the grating of broken bones and gasping for breath.

"OK, pal." murmured Grissom quietly, "You're OK. You're OK. I'm getting you help, alright?"

But Nick didn't seem to care - he was too preoccupied with the pain.

Closing the passenger side door, Grissom got into the drivers seat and started the engine. He gave his young passenger a quick, concerned glance before reversing out of the bay and heading for the entrance. Instead of heading for home, however, he did a short loop and ended up at the mortuary entrance - usually reserved for funeral director hearses when they came to collect bodies for preparation and burial.

Parking as close to the door as possible, Grissom got out and pressed the intercom button repeatedly until a gruff voice finally answered.

"It's Dr Albert Robbins here - who's there?"

"Al, it's Gil. I need your help. I need you to let us in? I'll explain in a minute."

There was a long pause and Grissom was just about to press the intercom button again when he heard the grating of locks and the large metal door opened. Dr Robbins stood in front of him, confusion written all over his face.

"Gil," he said, "what's going on?"Grissom was already at the cars passenger door.

"I need you to help me with Nick." he said bluntly. "He's hurt and we can't take him to a hospital."

Dr Robbins stood his ground.

"Can't take him to hospital? Gil, what the hell is going on? Why can't you take him to hospital?"Grissom gave him an exasperated look.

"Albert, please!" he pleaded. "I'll tell you everything once we're inside, but I need help moving him."Dr Robbins saw what Grissom meant as Nick was helped out of the vehicle.

"David!" he called inside the door, "I need you. Now!"

David Phillips appeared virtually instantly looking perplexed, but moved quickly with both a sharp push from Dr Robbins and the realisation of what was happening, and he wrapped an arm around the other side of Nick as he helped Grissom move him inside.

"Careful of his shoulder, David." murmured Grissom as the two men struggled to walk him into the morgue.

"Take him into the autopsy room." Dr Robbins called after them before shutting and locking the doors behind them.

Half walking and half dragging Nick, the two men manoeuvred him into the autopsy room and sat him in a swivel chair at the desk. David looked between Nick and Grissom, his face full of confused shock.

Dr Robbins pushed in front of them and leant down to examine Nick. His fingers worked their way from his head downward, poking and prodding at muscles and bones in an attempt to identify underlying injuries. Nick jerked away from him and groaned in pain when his hand landed upon his injured shoulder.

Murmuring quiet words of sympathy, Dr Robbins continued his assessment until he reached Nick's sore and swollen knee. He didn't need to cause him any undue pain by probing the swollen joint - it was clearly injured.

Instead, he reached out behind him and snapped out "David, scissors."

A pair of scissors was quickly handed to him and Dr Robbins placed one edge beneath the bottom cuff of Nick's jeans and sliced the denim fabric all the way to his thigh.

Nick watched with vague detachment as Grissom pursed his lips in concern at the red, swollen joint and David was sent off to find an ice pack. He came back with the pack, a handful of bandages and a couple of blankets draped over his arm as well.

While Dr Robbins busied himself with wrapping Nick's knee, Grissom shook out the blankets and wrapped them around Nick's still shivering body leaving his injured shoulder free.

Nick groaned softly and nodded in tired thanks, unable to form words.

Dr Robbins finished bandaging his knee and loosely wrapped the ice packs over the bandages before elevating it on a couple of equipment boxes. He headed to a cupboard and brought out one of the folded white cotton sheets which he usually used to cover bodies pre-autopsy. Using the scissors, he cut into the material, forming a large triangle. Going back to Nick, he used the scissors again to cut the wet shirt from his young patient before he carefully worked the triangle under his injured arm and used it to form an effective sling to immobilize his shoulder. Finally, he used another bandage to strap his arm to his shoulder before wrapping the blanket tightly around his other shoulder to try and warm him back up.

"We need to get some fluids into him, Gil," Dr Robbins said quietly, "and he needs rest - complete rest. He needs to keep off that knee."

Grissom nodded and chewed at his bottom lip. He wasn't really sure how that was going to be possible.

He watched as Dr Robbins went to the emergency treatment trolley and gathered a bag of IV fluid and an intravenous giving set. Thankfully, departmental policy dictated an emergency trolley by located in the mortuary in case of medical emergencies within the department.

The doctor skilfully wrapped a tourniquet around Nick's bicep and inserted an IV cannula into one of his veins and started the fluids running.

Nick couldn't keep his head up any more and lay it gently against the top of the desk. Dr Robbins rested a hand gently on the back of his head briefly in comfort, an unspoken apology for the necessary pain he had inflicted in order to patch up his injuries, before gesturing for Grissom to follow him out of earshot. Nick watched them move away but couldn't muster up the energy to care that they would be talking about him. Instead, he let his eyes drift shut and succumbed to unconsciousness.

**As always….reviews are priceless. Please take a minute to let me know what you think of the story.**


	7. Chapter 7

**Sorry for the delay in posting the new chapter - will post the remaining chapters all at once to close of the story as way of compensation : ). But please consider reviewing each chapter separately - getting feedback is so awesome.**

**CHAPTER SEVEN**

"What's going on, Gil?" asked Dr Robbins as he and Grissom walked into the storage room of the mortuary.

Grissom sighed and leant up against one of the shelves. He filled the doctor in on what had been happening over the previous few days - about Judge Stokes' judgement decision, the loss of Nick's sister, and Escoband.

Dr Robbins listened quietly, concern becoming more vividly etched on his face the more he heard.

"He needs medical attention." he said eventually, after finally digesting all that had been said. "That sling is a temporary measure."

Grissom nodded.

"I'll drive him to the hospital myself," replied Grissom. "just as soon as it's safe."

Dr Robbins folded his arms across his chest.

"Well, in the meantime…keep him off that knee, push fluids into him and dose him up on paracetamol - every four hours. I'll give him some codeine now to take the edge off.""Thankyou, Albert." said Grissom.

"Where are you going to take him."

Grissom rubbed his eyes, suddenly very tired.

"He comes home with me." he replied. "Until we know who we can and can't trust, I guess it's as safe as anywhere."

It was over an hour later that they were ready to leave the morgue. Dr Robbins dosed Nick up with a couple of codeine based pain relief tablets, got David to collect him some clean and dry clothes from his locker, and they waited patiently until the last of the intravenous fluid ran through. Grissom called Catherine and Brass to let the know that Nick had reappeared.

Catherine arranged to meet them at Grissom's apartment - she had to see him with her own eyes to make sure he was OK.

Although still in pain, Nick was more alert than when they arrived and had finally found his voice - albeit hoarse and quiet. He managed to hobble to Grissom's car with only a little support from his boss. Both his shoulder and knee felt significantly better after the care of Dr Robbins.

Grissom reversed out of the holding bay. In the time they had been inside, the sun had come up and the bright light of morning dazzled him as it caught the rear view mirror. He glanced over at his young colleague.

"Are you feeling OK?" he asked quietly.

Nick nodded slightly and looked back at him.

"Yeah," he replied, "A little sore, but I'll be alright."

Grissom nodded and drove back to his apartment coaxing information out of Nick as they went as to what happened over the previous couple of days. It was slow going but Nick filled Grissom in on how he had escaped the house, how he had wandered for hours through the Henderson neighbourhoods, and how he had crossed the Expressway and hurt his shoulder and knee, and how he had heard two voices of men who were looking for him.

"They knew where I'd be Gris," he said grimly. "Mobley must have been feeding them back information about me."

Grissom glanced over at his young colleague. He looked like he had been beaten up - mentally as well as physically. He had cuts and scratches all over his face and hands and gravel rash all down his good arm with dried blood caked over his torn shirt.

"It's not Mobley." replied Grissom simply. "We believe it was Officer Faustino who was in contact with Jose Escoband. Once you left the house, they were able to use his police issue radio to listen for any radio traffic about you. If you were crossing the Expressway on foot, I'd guarantee that someone would have called it in, and it would have heard it on the radio."

Nick sat back in silence, taking in what he'd just heard. He was so tired his brain was struggling to make sense of it.

He rested his head against the cool window of the car and gazed out at the houses as they drove past. If Escoband and Faustino were working together to track him down. It meant they could be anywhere. He didn't know what Escoband looked like and he couldn't really remember Faustino either. He was flying blind. He was trying to evade ghosts.

"Nick." Grissom's calm voice cut through his reverie.

Nick came back to reality with a jolt.

"Huh?"

"We're here." said Grissom, gesturing to his house.

Nick nodded and took a deep breath. He was finding it hard to focus his thoughts on anything more than who was after him. And, of course, his sister's death continued to break into his thought patterns periodically and make him feel as if he was kicked in the chest all over again.

Grissom ushered Nick indoors as quickly as his broken body would allow. He wanted him out in plain sight for as little time as possible. With Nick's good arm slung around his shoulder and a firm grip around his back, he helped him to the sofa and eased him down. The young man groaned in pain as his shoulder jarred despite the sling.

Grissom frowned at him in concern before disappearing into the bedroom and returning with a couple of pillows and a blanket. He was unaccustomed to house guests and the second bedroom was full of books and framed insect specimens - there was no room for a spare bed. But, the sofa was comfortable enough - he had often resorted to it when he had a migraine.

He put a pillow under Nick's head, positioned the second under his injured knee, and threw the blanket out over the top of him before heading to the kitchen and fixing him a large glass of water. He made a mental note to get Catherine to pick him up some supplies - including a sports drink or two for his house guest. Dr Robbins had told him to make sure he kept his fluids up and he figured he would need the electrolyte boost as well.

Nick was almost asleep by the time Grissom returned to the sofa.

"Let me know if you need anything. OK, pal?" Grissom said. He smiled to himself as Nick mumbled a thanks under his breath and lost the battle to stay awake.

Picking up his phone, he placed a quick call to Catherine to put in his request for supplies before settling in his favourite chair with a new scientific magazine which had arrived in the mail the previous day. His 'reading room' was slightly elevated from the living room on a secondary level accessible by a handful of steps. From his chair he could look straight down to where Nick was now soundly asleep.

It was almost an hour later by the time Catherine arrived. Grissom had nodded of in the chair and woke with a start at the sound of the door bell. Nick hadn't even stirred - a testament to how exhausted he was.

Catherine passed the grocery bag to Grissom and headed straight to Nick, running gentle fingers through his short hair without waking him and making soft, motherly 'tutting' noises as she took in his injured shoulder and multiple scratches and bruises to his face and neck. The night spent in the bushes by the creek, combined with the numerous falls, had left their mark.

Grissom gestured for her to join him in the kitchenette while he made them both a cup of tea.

"How is he?" she asked as she set out two mugs. She was quite familiar with the kitchenette. She had been over to Grissom's apartments on numerous occasions for debriefs on cases and for general catch up sessions. The two colleagues had been close friends for many years and had been there for each other during many turbulent times. He had been her rock during her divorce from Eddie.

Grissom glanced over at the sofa. "Doc Robbins checked him over. His clavicle's fractured and Al suspects he has some significant ligament damage. He's sprained his knee badly as well. Apart from being dehydrated and tired, the rest is superficial.. He'll be fine once he gets some proper rest and medical attention." Grissom said.

"Any news of Escoband and Faustino?" asked Catherine quietly.

Grissom gave a short shake of his head.

"Nothing yet," he replied.

Catherine sighed and accepted the cup of tea which was passed to her. She pulled up a stool at the counter and the two lapsed into a companionable silence.

Every now and then Nick would shift position or moan softly as the pain infiltrated his sleep and it would cause both Catherine and Grissom to glance in his direction, but each time he settled quickly back into sleep.

"So," said Catherine finally, "what do we do now?"

Grissom glanced at her and shrugged.

"We wait." he said simply.

It was early afternoon and the hot Las Vegas sun was beating down on the black sedan parked on the suburban street. The engine was running and the window was down a couple of inches. The windows were so darkly tinted that, unless you peered through the glass at close range, it was nigh on impossible to see the occupants.

Inside, Jose Escoband dragged on a cigarette as he kept watch over the neat looking apartment. He had spent the night sitting outside the pretty red headed CSI's fibro house and had followed her silver SUV to the nearby grocery store and then on to the apartment.

Stokes was inside - he knew it.

His plan had been simple. He knew from Faustino that the grave shift team was close - that the red head and the boss had been the ones to take the kid to the 'safe house'. He knew that Stokes would go to them for help. He had sat outside the redheaded woman's house for hours before he saw her head out in her car. He followed her at a distance close enough that he wouldn't lose her but far enough away as to not draw suspicion. She drove through several suburbs before arriving at an address he was already familiar with - the home of Nicholas Stokes. He had done extensive research over the previous few months during his sons trial as to the family life of the presiding judge. As his plan came together to make Judge Stokes suffer, he had located and identified each of his six children. He knew their names, he knew where they lived, he knew what they looked like, he knew where they worked. And so, he knew the address and smiled to himself. All he had to do was to follow the red head and, eventually, she would lead him straight to the prize.

It was mid afternoon by the time Catherine gently shook Nick awake. He had slept soundly for several hours and felt much more awake but the pain was starting to kick in again as his muscles started moving.

Catherine dosed him out some paracetamol tablets and took him a glass of water while Grissom heated a can of tinned soup for him and fixed him a sandwich.

Nick accepted the food and ate voraciously. It was the first bit of food he had eaten in days.

Once he'd had his fill he put the empty plate down and sat back on the sofa with a groan. Grissom moved the small coffee table closer."You need to keep that leg elevated, Nick." he said quietly as he reached for the spare pillow on the sofa and gently raised his injured leg so it was supported on the table.

Catherine frowned with concern - she hadn't known his knee was injured as well. She wondered if there were any other injuries that she didn't know about.

"Is there any news?" asked Nick, his voice gravely.

Grissom shrugged with his eyebrows and moved to take a seat across from him.

"Not yet." he replied. "Jim's working on what little leads we have."Nick kept eye contact with is boss a moment longer before shrugging and glancing at Catherine.

"So, what's stopping him from tracking me down here?" he asked nervously, "I could be leading him straight to you guys as well."

Catherine reached out and grabbed his hand giving it a tight squeeze.

Grissom shrugged.

"Well, there's six people who know you're here." he said, "And three of those people are sitting here."

Nick glanced over at Catherine confused."But there were only seven people who knew where I was before and he still tracked me down." Nick argued.

Grissom nodded and shrugged again.

"Yes," he said carefully, "but no-one within the police department knows your location this time."Nick still looked unconvinced.

Grissom sighed and sat forward, resting his arms on his knees.

"Nick, do you trust me?" he asked.

Nick snorted and glanced at Catherine again for reassurance before looking back at his boss.

"Of course." he replied quietly.

Grissom nodded.

"How about Catherine?" Grissom continued.

Nick smiled at her, embarrassed.

"Yeah," he said, ducking his head down as he spoke.

"I trust her too." Catherine chuckled under her breath and reached out again to squeeze his bicep.

"I'm glad to hear that!" she teased.

Grissom continued to watch him closely as he continued.

"OK," he said. "The only other people who know are Brass, Doc Robbins and David Phillips. All three are sworn to secrecy. Do you trust the three of them?"

Nick kept his head down and gave a small nod, mumbling his positive response in a voice that was barely audible.

Grissom watched him for another long moment.

"Nick," he said quietly, "I know you're scared, but we're going to protect you. OK?"

Nick brought his hands up to scrub at his face, but didn't speak.

Grissom pursed his lips and tried again.

"Nicky, look at me." he said, his voice quiet yet still commanding.

Slowly Nick brought his head up and eventually made eye contact with his boss, scepticism still in his eyes.

"We will protect you." Grissom said again. "OK, pal? We will protect you."Nick maintained the eye contact a moment more before finally giving a barely noticeable nod.

"OK."

**As always, reviews are greatly appreciated and help very much with the whole writing process so please consider dropping a line on the review page. **


	8. Chapter 8

**This chapter is very far fetched. Please read on with an appreciation that this is fiction and that in the harsh light of reality a lot of what happens in this chapter would clearly never really happen : )**

**CHAPTER EIGHT**

Catherine stayed and had dinner with her two guys before heading back to her own home. She drove past the black sedan which still sat down the street from Grissom's apartment without giving it a second glance. Although still desperately worried about her young colleague, she felt slightly better now that she knew where he was and that he was no longer facing things by himself.

Grissom had seen Catherine off and returned to load the used dishes into the dishwasher. He had turned on the television for Nick and set him up with the remote control before he headed back up to his chair to continue reading his scientific journal.

He flicked through page after page, reading new advances in forensics, new analysis techniques for DNA profiling, and case study reports. He yawned and checked his watch. It was late and he was suddenly tired.

Closing the journal, he pushed himself up from his chair and headed back down to the living room.

The television's glow and the low drone of the audio had clearly had a sedating effect on his young charge who was fast asleep. Grissom smiled to himself and brought the blanket up to cover him. Picking up the remote control, he hesitated for a second before deciding to leave the TV on. He figured if Nick woke during the night, the soft glow from the screen would give him enough light to get his bearings.

Turning off the living room light, he headed off to bed.

Jose Escoband sat in his car and continued to watch the apartment. He kept his mind busy by thinking about his own son, how proud he was to have such a strong boy, and the memories of him growing up in a remote Mexican town bordering the Chihuahuan desert.

It had been a hard existence.

Father and son had depended on each other and he would be damned if he would just sit back and let Judge Bill Stokes take his child away from him.

He would pay.

He would pay with his own children.

He waited until the sun went down…and then he waited some more.

It was almost 1am when he finally moved.

Nick tossed and turned in a restless sleep. He dreamt of falling, of pain, of sadness and of fear. He woke several times sweaty and shaky and disorientated but exhaustion overwhelmed him quickly each time and he drifted off again to the next nightmare.

After a couple of hours, he woke from a particularly bad dream.

He woke suddenly and tried to sit up despite the pain which engulfed his entire body.

His eyes darted around the dimly lit room, the flickering off the TV causing a strobing effect, and landed on the person sitting opposite him in the chair. Memories flooded back about where he was and how he'd gotten there.

"Gris?" he mumbled, his voice thick with the remnants of sleep.

He rubbed his eyes to try and clear his vision when the figure didn't respond.

Looking at the figure more intently, he tried a second time.

"Grissom?"

The figure reached out to his right hand side and flicked on a standing lamp which suddenly showered light over both of them.

The horror of dreams suddenly merged with reality and Nick gasped in shock and instinctively tried to stumble to his feet to escape. Instead, he collapsed down onto his good knee as his bad one gave way.

"No, Mr Stokes." Jose Escoband said menacingly, "not 'Grissom'." - except it came out as a drawled '_Grey-some_'.

Nick warred with wanting to scream out to Grissom, but the gleam on the revolver that Escoband was holding nonchalantly in his hand, combined with the shock that had overtaken his mind, stopped him.

He didn't know if his boss was safe or if Escoband had finished him off first so he could focus on disposing of Nick without further disturbance, but he felt it was safer not to yell out and lure his boss to a near certain death.

As Nick stared in numb fear, Escoband pushed himself up from the chair and stood over him. Nick unconsciously cowered away.

Escoband grinned threateningly at him, distaste clearly written on his face.

"You are going to die tonight, _Meester_ Stokes." he drawled. "Do you know why?"

His voice was dripping with underlying menace.

Nick was breathing like he had just run a marathon.

"Do you?" Escoband asked again as he leaned in to be literally just an inch or two from Nick's face. Nick inadvertently winced as his foul smelling nicotine laced breath puffed in his face.

Unable to form words, he merely shook his head stiffly from side to side.

"Because your father is sentencing my son to death. My child is going to die because of your father's action and now your father is going to feel the same pain. I am going to take his children from him. I am going to take his son from him." he circled his head threateningly from side to side as he spoke increasing the fear the young man felt with each pass of the head.

"Please…." Nick begged quietly. "Please….my father's decisions don't have anything to do with me."

Escoband moved quickly, leaning in until his face was almost touching Nick's and grabbing the front of his shirt roughly in a fist.

"Your father's decisions have everything to do with you now." he snarled.

Nick's breath hitched painfully in his throat as he was hauled to his feet. His vision greyed and he groaned in misery as his broken shoulder flared with pain despite the restrictive sling. His injured knee scrambled with his good one to try and support his weight before the rough hands released him with one final shove and he staggered backwards away from the sofa and stumbled to the wall. Using his good arm to steady himself he closed his eyes against the pain for a moment before opening them again and turning, defeated, back to his tormenter. His heart was racing from the surge of adrenaline and frightened tears appeared.

He was going to die.

He was going to be reunited with his sister.

The horrible, terrifying image of Jose Escoband would be the last thing he would ever see.

The man in question brought the gun up slowly, levelling it finally at Nick's head. He held it at a 90 degree angle which enabled Nick to look into the madman eyes. They were gleaming with a mix of intense hatred and impending success. A maniacal grin spread across his face.

Nick's body shook with fear and the tears made their way down his face.

"Please…..please….." he begged quietly, his voice catching with stifled sobs. He didn't want to die. "Please…"

"Goodbye, Meester Stokes." Escoband drawled.

"Put the gun down, Jose"The soft, commanding voice of Gil Grissom wafted like music to Nick's ears.

Escoband grimaced without turning to look at the source of the voice.

"I should have killed you too." he snarled. "But, it will make no difference. Your young friend here is going to die regardless."

Nick flicked his eyes nervously from Escoband to Grissom and back again.

"Nick, don't move." murmured Grissom quietly. He had his own weapon aimed steadily at Escoband, showing not the slightest hint of nervousness.

Nick, however, was sweating bullets and his breathing came so fast that he thought he was going to pass out.

"Yes, _Neeeck_, don't move." he taunted, "I don't want to have to waste two bullets on you."

"I'm not going to ask you again, Jose." Grissom continued. "You shoot him and you'll be dead before your finger finishes squeezing the trigger. So, put the gun down and we can walk away from this right now."

Escoband's deep, humourless laugh filled the room.

"You _theenk_ I care about dying?" he spat out as he finally turned and looked at Grissom - but did not move the gun away from Nick, "I don't care about dying. I don't care one bit."

He swung his gaze back to a terrified Nick.

"A son for a son." he whispered as his finger tightened on the trigger.

The crack of the gunshot made Grissom flinch and the dull thud of a dead weight hitting the floor made his stomach drop. He dropped his weapon down by his side and closed his eyes for a heartbeat not wanting to look at the bright blood pooling on his polished floorboards.

Opening his eyes again, he secured his weapon and placed it on the side table.

"Are you OK, Nick?" he asked quietly without looking at him.

Nick nodded his head and mumbled out a 'yeah….yeah.", his stunned face not able to turn away from the body of his would be assassin.

The strength in his legs finally gave out and his hand reached out for the wall for stability again as his body slid down towards the floor.

Grissom hugged the furniture as he manoeuvred his way to his traumatized young colleague without disturbing the scene. He slipped a hand beneath his uninjured shoulder and eased him back up to his feet and helped him up the couple of stairs to his reading chair. He walked back down to the living area, trying hard not to look at Escoband's lifeless body, and picked up the blanket, returning back up to Nick and wrapping it tightly around his shaking body.

He watched him bring his trembling hand out from the blanket and rub the tears from his face which continued to come despite the effort. Sighing tiredly, he placed a fatherly hand on top of Nick's head and rubbed it awkwardly for a brief moment in sympathy before taking his cell phone and making a couple of calls - the first one to Jim Brass reporting the shooting, and the second one to Catherine. By the time he ended the second call, he could hear the wail of police siren's creeping closer and, closing his cell phone, he placed it on his reading table and sat heavily in the seat opposite Nick, waiting for the cavalry to arrive.

Catherine arrived at Grissom's and parked among the various police vehicles and ambulance which lined the streets. A small crowd of onlookers had already set up camp behind the yellow crime tape and Catherine pushed her way through them and under the tape to make her way up the steps and into the apartment.

A medic was tending to Nick and she interrupted momentarily to kneel in front of him and assess him herself. Bringing a hand up to rest against his left temple she frowned before giving him a relieved smile. She pushed herself to her feet, squeezed his hand in comfort before leaving him in the paramedics care again and heading off to find Grissom.

She found him with Jim Brass down in the living room. She glanced at the white sheet which had been thrown over Escobands body as she passed b y. Jim finished his sentence and left the two colleagues alone.

"Are you OK?" she asked Grissom, reaching out to place a concerned hand on his forearm. He looked tired as he brought a hand up, removed his glasses, rubbed his free hand across his face, then replaced his glasses again. He finally gave her a wan smile which didn't quite reach his eyes and nodded.

"Yeah, I'm fine." he said quietly. "Nicky's pretty shaken up. He's going to have to go to hospital and have his shoulder and knee treated….can you go with him?"

Catherine squeezed his arm and nodded.

"Of course." she said quietly. "I presume days will be taking over the scene?"

Grissom nodded.

"Where are you going to stay until the scene is released and the place cleaned up?"

Grissom shrugged with his eyebrows and sighed again.

"I'll take a hotel room for a couple of days." he replied.

They were distracted by the sound of Nick's voice and both glanced up to where he was being assesses.

"Sir, I'm sorry, but you have to travel in the ambulance on the stretcher." the paramedic was reasoning.

"Man, I don't need to lie down! I can walk out there - I just….need a hand to stand up." Nick was arguing.

"Sir, please…."

Catherine rolled her eyes at Grissom before snapping her head back up to Nick with such force that her red hair flicked outwards.

"Nicky!" she barked, "For God's sake, stop arguing and get on the damn stretcher!"

He opened his mouth to argue with her too but the glare she shot at him made him close it without comment and he begrudgingly did as he was told.

She turned back to Grissom, who chuckled under his breath at her ferocity. It was the same grit that enabled her to be such a great CSI as well as juggling life as a single parent.

"OK," she continued as if the interruption had not taken place, "call me if you need anything. I'll call you from the hospital once he's been assessed."

Grissom smiled at her and nodded. He could feel the weight of responsibility finally lifting off his shoulders. He looked forward to finally being able to get some proper rest without the burden of worry over his young colleague. He was finally safe and would be taken good care of.

Gil Grissom could relax.

**Thank you so much to all the people who have already left reviews - greatly appreciated. Only one very small chapter left to post.**


	9. Chapter 9

**Final chapter finally up. Its very short but there was nothing more to add. Please consider reviewing at the end. Many thanks in advance.**

**CHAPTER 9**

Grissom had packed an overnight bag to get him through several days before handing his home over to Conrad Ecklie and his day shift team for processing. He went into the police department to give his statement to Jim Brass and to fill out the necessary paperwork, collected a couple of books from his office for some 'light' reading then headed off to enjoy three nights of annual leave. He had decided to treat himself by booking a room at the New York New York casino where he could enjoy people watching on the Strip but also got to ride the casino's roller coaster ad infinitum.

In all of his years living in Las Vegas, he had never stayed on the Strip. He found he was quite looking forward to it, despite the unfortunate nature of why it was necessary.

His phone rang and it was Catherine letting him know that Nick had been admitted to Desert Palms hospital and would be having surgery that evening to repair his shoulder, which had been too damaged during the two days he was on the run to let it heal naturally. He was sleeping on and off and she had arranged to stay with him until they wheeled him off to theatre.

Grissom smiled as he ended the call. Things were recalibrating back to normal. He hated it when normalcy went hay wire - it made him tense. The last few days had been way off normal and he had been beyond tense - now he could turn off his responsibilities again and go back to usual.

And it felt good.

He slept soundly for the first time in many nights and woke feeling refreshed and alert. Catherine had phoned again just as he was heading to bed to let him know that Nick had come through surgery well and had settled into a drug induced deep sleep. It had been a further relief to Grissom. He had many things to do - he had to go back into the lab and have meetings with Texan authorities, he had to tidy up paperwork from the last few days, and he had to go and visit Nick.

It was mid afternoon by the time he finally arrived at Desert Palms. He was flanked by three men in suits and Jim Brass.

Grissom felt very awkward as Jim attempted small talk in the elevator up to the 4th floor. The men were clearly not interested in chatting.

As they arrived on the ward, Brass led the three suited men to the nurses station to speak with Nick's nurse. Grissom took the opportunity to visit him briefly alone. He lingered in the doorway and studied the younger man before he entered the room. Nick was sitting up in bed, a book discarded on the covers as he gazed out the window instead. He was clearly deep in thought.

"Nick?" Grissom asked quietly.

The younger man's head turned and he gave his boss a wan smile.

"Hey." he mumbled.

Grissom returned his smile with one that was genuine and warm.

"How are you feeling?" he asked.

Nick pulled himself up straighter in the bed.

"Not too bad," Nick replied, "all things considered."

"Can I bring you in anything?" Grissom asked.

Nick shook his head.

"Nah," he replied, "thanks anyway but I think I've got everything I need. Catherine brought in everything last night. 'Sides, I'm hoping their gonna let me outta here sooner rather than later."

Grissom raised his eyebrows in scepticism.

Nick noticed and ducked his head down.

"I need to get outta here." he said quietly, "I need to go home to be with my family."It was Grissom's turn to duck his head - in sympathy this time. He lifted it again and glanced out the doorway as he heard the sound of approaching people.

"Well, I'll come back and visit again soon." he said, "You've got a visitor and I don't want to intrude."

Nick grimaced a little.

"Who is it?" he asked quietly. "I don't really feel up to seeing anyone else at the moment."

Grissom shrugged. "Well, I think you will want to see this one." he said simply as the men in suits appeared in the doorway.

Nick glanced from one to the other until they focused squarely on one of the men - an older man in a sharp grey suit, his silver/grey hair immaculate and his face stony with a mix of grief and stress.

"Dad?" whispered Nick under his breath.

Bill Stokes' expression softened immediately and he lost his composure ever so slightly as he went straight to his son and wrapped his strong arms around him.

Nick buried his head into his Dad's neck and the two men stayed in the embrace for several long minutes, each taking comfort from the presence of the other.

Grissom took the opportunity to give the two men privacy and excused himself from the other two suited men who simply nodded and let him pass, quietly closing the door behind him.

Finally drawing apart, the older Stokes placed strong hands on either side of his son's face.

"I am so, so sorry." he whispered, his voice cracking.

Nick was shaking his head before he had even finished speaking.

"It wasn't your fault, Dad." he said quietly. "None of this was your fault."

Judge Stokes smiled a sad smile. He had been blaming himself for his daughter's death ever since he had received the anonymous phone call. And even though Nick's words did nothing to ease his guilt, he couldn't help but be comforted by his youngest child's inability to feel bitterness. He had always been that way - even as a child he had been sensitive to others and always knew the right things to say to bring comfort. It was a gift from God.

"How's Mom coping?" asked Nick, concern clear in the tone of his voice.

His father sat on the edge of the bed and reached out to take his son's uninjured hand.

"She's holding up as well as can be expected." he replied quietly. "She's gone to Illinois to make custodial arrangements for the children."

Nick sank back against the pillows.

"What's going to happen to them?" he asked quietly.

Judge Stokes paused for a moment before replying.

"We're bringing them home to Texas with us." he said. "We'll be their legal guardians. Rachel and Tim will help us raise them - at least they'll have close contact with their cousins and an insight into a 'normal' family despite growing up with their grandparents."

Nick nodded. His older sister, Rachel, and her husband lived close by their parents and had three young children of their own. In fact, the only Stokes children not to have children of their own were Nick and his sister, Emma. And he was sure that his nieces and nephews would be much better off growing up with his parents than with either of them. He was certainly in no position to raise four young children, and Emma was a constant traveller - continually heading off to see the world and barely spending a year in any one country before moving on again.

"I thought I might come home to Texas for a few weeks to help with the settling in." Nick said. "If you think that would be OK."

His father looked a little surprised - but smiled warmly.

"That would help a lot." his father replied. "I think your mother needs to have everyone around her at the moment."

Nick nodded. He was dreading the coming weeks. He was dreading the final goodbye to his sister. But his family was strong. They had always supported each other and he was certain they would all come together to get through this traumatic time as well.

Scarred, but not defeated.

It was what being a Stokes was all about.

**That's it - all done. Thanks for reading. Now, please - press the review button and let me know what you think. Good or bad. **


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